


Pianos & Paintbrushes

by ArtForRogue



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Artist Keith (Voltron), College Student Keith (Voltron), College Student Shiro (Voltron), F/F, Femsheith is very soft and very gay, Implied Sexual Content, Musician Shiro (Voltron), POV Keith (Voltron), Scandalous hand-holding, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26601034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtForRogue/pseuds/ArtForRogue
Summary: 'Golden Girl' Takashi Shirogane is about as impressive as you can get; top of her class, beautiful, funny....just to name a few. Keith figured their paths would never align and she could just admire from afar in peace.The universe is rarely so kind, and Shiro's got plans.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41
Collections: Femsheith Exchange 2020





	Pianos & Paintbrushes

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my exchange partner @beepoofles! They provided some really awesome prompts but I was very partial to their college AU idea. I hope you enjoy the end result <3

Keith hadn’t meant to give Shiro a second glance, really. 

She had been on campus only long enough to know the cafeteria’s hours (a blessed 6 AM to midnight, with coffee available for free the entire time) and the traffic-free routes to classes. Even still, Keith knew of Shiro. Who didn’t know about cool, graduate-program Takashi Shirogane with her heavenly skill on the piano and matching charm? Word spread fast when you got someone as beautiful as Shiro helping freshman students on move-in day but then speeding off at the end of it all on a motorcycle as dark as the night. 

Keith knew she wasn’t much of a ‘people-person’, but she wasn’t  _ blind.  _

But she  _ also  _ knew that there was no way anyone as respectable and beloved across campus as Shiro would ever take a moment to talk to art-gremlin Keith, who had maybe worn the same ripped black jeans-hoodie combo every day this week. Maybe two weeks, actually. 

Before entering the art warehouse for her 8 AM class, Keith lifted her hoodie to her nose and took a cautious whiff. The fact that it still smelled of this morning’s quick cigarette was actually a blessing, all things considered. Keith knew she would get dirty looks from her easel partner for the entirety of their life-drawing session and very little brought as much light to Keith’s life as irritating Lance. 

“Today’s going to be okay,” Keith decided then and there before slapping the entry’s buzzer with her hip. 

“Oh! Can you hold the door, please?” A voice called out from behind her, nearly making Keith drop her mountain of art supplies in the shock. She hadn’t heard anyone approach -- oh, god, did they just watch her  _ sniff-check her hoodie?  _

The door opened automatically, meaning no escape, no justice in the world, so Keith decided to bite the bullet and kick her foot to keep it open for the stranger behind her, turning at the last second to see none other than Takashi Shirogane heading her way.

“Thanks.” Shiro’s smile was as bright as the sun when she greeted Keith, one very defined arm reaching over Keith to keep the door open. Keith would have turned her gaze to respectfully look but she was held by Shiro’s eager, kind demeanor. “Do you know where Mrs. Holt’s life-drawing class is? I’m kind of running late.” 

Mrs. Holt’s life-drawing class. That sounded familiar. 

“That’s where I’m going.” Keith realized, her brain unhelpfully making her say so at the same time her synapses connected two-and-two together. 

Shiro’s smile tilted to the side, knowing almost, as she said, “Great! I’ll just follow you then.” 

The early morning made Keith slower to recover from the shock of a stranger rushing into her space but eventually gave way to acceptance. No matter how much anyone talked up Shiro, she was still blood and bones like everyone else and that fact alone made Keith lower her hackles. 

She still wasn’t awake enough to start a conversation though, so Shiro took the initiative on that one as she leaned closer into Keith’s space. “You’re...Keith? Pidge mentioned he had a new ‘art friend’ in the warehouse.” 

Keith took a moment to consider Pidge calling her a friend before she shrugged in answer. “Yeah. Pidge is something else.” Needless to say, since Pidge had already finished his bioengineering degree three years early and decided to burn some time with pursuing the arts. On the other hand, Keith was the oldest kid in the class since she took a two-year gap between high school and college and felt it every day when Lance shoved memes at her. 

They both stuck out like sore thumbs. It was meant to be, or so said Pidge in his first attempt to get Keith to talk to him. 

“I’ve seen you around.” Keith offered as a way to bridge the gap of silence between them. “Shiro, right?” 

The genuine look of surprise on Shiro’s face was unexpected but quickly melted into delight. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s -- that’s me.” The thermos in her hands sloshed in her excitement to emote, in some way or another, only for Shiro to tuck it against her chest instead. Keith found her eyes drawn to the motion and looked away just as quick, afraid of what getting caught would look like. “I’m usually on the other side of campus so I’m surprised you know me.” 

“‘Golden Girl’ Shiro?” Keith scoffed, “You’re kind of hard to miss.” The classroom was down this next set of stairs but Keith couldn’t quite bring herself to look away from the flustered blush dusting Shiro’s cheeks, enough so that her boot skimmed right off the edge of the first step and sent Keith toppling down. 

Or, she would have, were it not for the hand that shot out to catch her. 

The art supplies previously held in Keith’s arms smashed to the ground in a loud cacophony, but thankfully Keith did not join them in their disheveled state on the ground. “Whoa, are you okay?” Shiro hauled Keith back to the top of the stairs like she weighed nothing, one hand still securely wrapped around Keith’s bicep though the threat of danger had long passed. Keith felt breathless and it wasn’t because her art supplies were splattered on the ground. 

“Sorry, I-- um, thanks.” It took a beat but Shiro eventually removed her hand with a sheepish grin, as if she had forgotten that she was even holding onto Keith. The pulse of heat from her handprint lingered, just a moment, gone too soon. 

When Shiro only continued her descent down, acting like nothing monumental had happened, Keith was quick to follow to assess the damage. The fall had sounded like hell but nothing was broken, at least, just scattered messily against the concrete. As soon as Keith bent down to pick up the forlorn bottles of paint, Shiro was right there with her. 

Keith couldn’t pinpoint what changed at that moment -- just knew, without question, that something had clicked in the backdrop.

The only reason Shiro had entered the art warehouse was to drop off Pidge’s misplaced thermos, but following that Keith saw Shiro  _ everywhere.  _ On campus, at the cafeteria, in the library; even at Keith’s part-time gig with the astrology department (though to be fair that was probably more of Keith’s fault since she knew Shiro had a minor in astrophysics). 

At first the constant call of, “Oh, Keith, hey!” set Keith’s nerves on fire. Keith wasn’t the popular kid on campus. She could literally count all of her friends on one hand; quality versus quantity and all that. The first thought at hearing her name called across campus was to ignore it or at the very least give said caller a dirty look.

With Shiro, it was different.

“Oh wow,” Shiro would say, unashamed, “do you like coffee too?” Or, maybe, “Can I see what you’ve been working on for class? Pidge won’t show me his.” 

The excuses were obvious in hindsight. 

“Do you want to come over tonight and listen to some music?” Shiro asked one rainy Wednesday afternoon. It was out of the blue, really, with the both of them crammed into one of the library’s few cubicles, knees knocking under the table, just a quiet day of studying. 

But Shiro had never invited Keith over to her apartment before. It was a tempting offer just as is; anything was better than on-campus housing. Personal boundaries were a hard no-go for Keith as a rule of thumb and she wasn’t about to shove her way into Shiro’s space just to get access to something stronger than a dollar-store microwave. 

The expectant look in Shiro’s gray eyes told Keith to take the leap of faith. 

“Sure.” She conceded with a slight twitch of her lips. “Do you want me to bring dinner with me?” 

Shiro waved off Keith’s offer with a flippant twist of her hand, saying, “No, that’s alright. I’ll cook.” 

A mistake. When Keith arrived that night to the blaring screech of the smoke alarm, there was no doubt in her mind the source of it. Shiro was fine, thankfully, but they opted for pizza when Keith pulled the charred remains of dinner from the oven and couldn't even ID it. Once the smoke cleared a bit further and Keith could make out the interior of the apartment, she found herself amused with how very  _ Shiro  _ it all was from the NASA posters on the walls to the organization of her protein powders by height and color on the kitchen counter. 

What really grabbed her attention was the grand piano in the living room. 

The mind-numbing logistics of moving such a huge piece of furniture into a third-floor apartment was overshadowed by the sheer beauty of it. Keith found herself running her fingers over the lacquer cherry-red wood before she could even stop herself. 

Keith knew shit-all about music, even less so about anything categorized as classical -- but suddenly there was nothing more she wanted to do than hear Shiro sit and play. “It’s beautiful.” She said, slightly awestruck. Shiro moved to her left, silent as she lifted the keyboard cover and set it into place. Her fingers drifted over the keys, too delicate to produce a sound, and Keith found herself shivering. 

Shiro admitted, “It’s the only thing I have left from my parents. I can remember how my mother used to sit at this bench for hours and fill the house with the most delicate music.” 

It was the first Keith had ever heard of Shiro’s parents. “What happened?” 

“It was the same car accident that took my arm.” A key here, a key there -- pressed so gently it may as well have been the beat of Keith’s heart. “I’ve been without them for a long time, now.” There was an air of acceptance to Shiro’s words, though the sadness was still obvious. She smiled when she turned to Keith. “I’ve been without anyone for a long time. But with you, I….” 

Shiro trailed off. Keith met her gaze and found herself smiling back, even though the air between them was full of uncertainty. “Can I play you a song?” Shiro asked. 

Keith sat down in lieu of an answer. The bench was barely big enough for the both of them side-by-side but Keith didn’t mind the closeness it required. She pressed her thigh to Shiro’s and watched those graceful fingers position themselves across the monochrome splash of the keyboard. 

Never in a thousand years could Keith have guessed what song Shiro played. All the same, the song burned it’s way into her as she sat there and listened as Shiro poured her heart out for Keith. 

When Shiro finished and sat back, expectant, Keith couldn’t put her appreciation to words. “That was amazing,” was all she could manage. Somehow, even those paltry words made Shiro blush with happiness. 

“I could teach you a little, if you want.” Shiro offered with a teasing tap of her thigh to Keith’s. 

At this point, Keith would take any excuse if it meant she could sit with Shiro for a touch longer. She pressed her fingers to the piano keys with no expectations in mind, but found the blood in her veins roaring when Shiro smoothing her hand on top. 

“We’ll go slow.” Shiro promised. 

“Y-yeah.” Keith stuttered out in reply, her face aflame at the simplest touch. She wasn’t devoid of experience but -- it had been so  _ long _ . It was even more embarrassing because Shiro acted like it was no issue at all to hold her friend’s hand out of nowhere. “You’ve got big hands.” 

It was so random, so ill-thought, but Shiro barked out a laugh all the same. “I guess I do? Maybe you just have small ones.” In a horrifying twist of events, Shiro picked Keith’s hand up and turned it over, looking at her eternally paint-stained fingers as if they were something holy. 

“But I think they fit nicely together, either way.” She looked up to Keith and smiled, so shy then. “Don’t you think?” 

“Sure.” Keith felt breathless, like all the air had been suddenly sucked from the room. Where were they? What day was it? All she could focus on was Shiro sitting before her, golden and radiant and _holding her hand._

It was Shiro who first broke their connected gaze. She turned her gaze back to the keys, head tilted just so that her shoulder-length hair covered her embarrassed expression. “...it’s late. Maybe we could have a piano lesson another time?” 

There was no way Keith was about to push Shiro’s comfort to the side, so she agreed and let Shiro lead her to the door. The both of them walked like newborn deer, wobbly and nervous as hell even though nothing of importance had happened. All they did was hold hands, Keith reminded herself as she slipped her shoes back on. 

“This was fun.” Shiro said in lieu of goodbyes. She leaned against the doorframe like she needed the support, looking so forlorn Keith couldn’t help but reach out and take her hand again. 

“Yeah, it was.” Keith let her hand slide down from Shiro’s wrist first, one finger trailing along the delicate curve of her wrist before settling against her open palm. Shiro immediately cupped her hand in response, looking delighted. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Your tiny hands do have me captive.” Shiro teased through her blush-stained cheeks, smile so wide it looked like it hurt. When Keith didn’t budge from her spot in front of Shiro, she dissolved into even more nervous energy, but thankfully remembered to tug Keith forward first. 

Keith had to reach up on her tiptoes, but she really  _ really  _ didn’t mind when that meant that Shiro had to place her hands on her hips to keep them both in place. Shiro’s lip-gloss tasted like strawberries and Keith immediately was addicted to the taste of it on Shiro’s lips. When they pulled away, Keith wanted to whine at the loss. 

Only, she found herself being tugged inside instead. 

“More piano lessons?” Keith asked around the laugh bubbling her throat as Shiro kissed her again and again, like she was something precious and loved.

Shiro spun Keith around and lifted her up into her arms, then said, "Maybe in the morning." 


End file.
